


spacious, warm hearts

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Give me more ThomaShion content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Instead, Shion closed his eyes and allowed the workings of the elevator to defy gravity as it steadily rose up, up, up. It was as close to the sky he could get to. He was always rooted on the ground, knees and elbows bruised just to dig the ball and keep the game in momentum. He was tired.And he let Adriah’s fingers weave through his locks.After a gruesome night training, the only thing on his mind is rest. Luckily, Adriah’s there to ease some exhaustion away.
Relationships: Inunaki Shion/Adriah Thomas, implied Sakusa Kiyoomi/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 158





	spacious, warm hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [Sam](https://twitter.com/shoyosmiIe), a dear friend of mine: 
> 
> I took your advice into heart and wrote. Simple as that. There came a moment wherein I wasn’t pleased with what I was writing and wanted to throw it out. But I remembered your words. It brought me here: a self-indulgent TomaShion fic from me to you, my MSBY kinnie. (#HinataShouyouSupremacy) Also, thank you for beta reading this fic; never doubt your braincells. 
> 
> [On + Off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWt5ywbLhO8) by Maggie Rogers

The moment Adrian Thomas, in his almost-seven-feet glory, had stepped into the MSBY Black Jackals’ gymnasium, his towering height had not gone unnoticed. How could it not be, when his lean and tall figure had been hunched under the gym’s doorway? Shion had found it quite amusing. 

What had struck Shion, however, was how, strangely, the room seemed brighter, _warmer_ , considering that it had been a few minutes past nine in the morning and drills had just finished. 

Shion had cast a furtive glance around his teammates, who all seemed rather shocked, as he had been, by the man standing before them. All white-toothed smiles and a subdued, kindling passion to him. Indeed, Adriah Thomas was _tall_. Taller than Schweiden Adlers’ Nicollas Romero, that’s for sure. But there was _something_ about him that Shion couldn’t put his finger on.

“How tall is he again?” mused Shion, to no one in particular. 

“About 200 centimeters,” Oliver had replied from the bench beside him. He, also, had taken great interest in the newcomer. “To think that he’s only a year older than you,” he had added as an afterthought. 

Shion hadn’t taken the remark into heart and snorted. “My height can be quite convenient, y’know,” he had retorted. “He could be MSBY’s new jewel or something. With that height of his.”

“Meian did say that he was tall, didn’t he?” agreed Oliver.

As Adriah, his limbs extending one after the other with such ease, had strode beside Meian, who animatedly spoke — or, at least _tried_ — to him with his already sparse English wordbank, only then had Shion realized that, again, Adriah Thomas was _tall_. The mere fact that Shion needed to look _up_ , and not _at_ , Adriah had tugged a small frown on his lips. 

_Oh well_ , Shion had thought with a small shake of his head before flashing a grin at his new teammate and Adriah, too, had reciprocated. _My height can still be quite convenient_. 

“Nice to meet you all,” greeted Adriah in his rusty Japanese. “I am Adriah Thomas, your new teammate and MSBY’s middle blocker. Please take good care of me!” Then, he had bowed stiffly.

Shion had tried to stifle his laughter and extended a hand to Adriah. “I’m Inunaki Shion. Libero.” The latter had taken his hand into his and shook it, somewhat shocking Shion with his firm grip. 

_He’ll be a great blocker_ , thought Shion. Hope and pride had blossomed in his chest; the promising season firing every nerve and muscle in Shion’s body. 

“And you are very tall,” Oliver had remarked, to which Adriah chortled at. 

“So they say. Pretty convenient, ‘no?” 

This agreeable advantage for both Shion’s near six feet height _and_ Adrian’s borderline seven feet happened to be reserved for them to trifle with. Until the arrival of the new recruits — _monsters_ at that — Shion, together with Hinata, more or less became the team’s target for their incessant teases. And though, height remains to be the real and relentless competition in the world of volleyball, it wasn’t only confined in courts brimming with spectators and the scent of salonpas wafting through the air. 

Often, there were bastards in locker rooms who held Shion’s favorite yet worn out _Pokémon_ shirt up high. Those who playfully asked him if he needed help in taking down the net while they were cleaning up after a night’s strenuous training. The same person reminded him, via iMessage, to bring his ID when going out for weekend drinks. Concern often went along with these charitable deeds, but it always ended with Shion glowering at the insufferable Atsumu Miya. How he managed to drag most of the team into his antics, Shion didn’t know.

There were some others who proved that Shion’s assertion of convenience applied to those graced enough to see the summit. That “some others” went by the name Adriah Thomas, and Shion was definitely _not_ pleased with it. 

The two stood by the façade of the gymnasium and underneath the overcast, twilight sky, with the chill biting through the fabrics of their jersey jackets. Adriah’s arm rested atop the Shion’s head, the libero becoming a mobile armrest. It was a playful gesture that Adriah picked up on Atsumu’s childish behavior on and off court. 

His impudence really was contagious. 

Shion squrimed under the dead weight of Adriah's arm. Training became twice as grueling, as the season neared and pressure built on their shoulders. Receives had been hard on Shion’s knees and arms, muscles taut and aching, and to him, breathing seemed to be the easiest any functional human could do. And even if he wanted to shove Adriah, or swat his arm away, he _couldn’t_. 

So he grumbled, “Get your arm off of my head.” He added, desperate: “ _Please._ ”

Withdrawing his arm, Adriah blinked at Shion, who now ran a hand over his mussed hair and had a strained look on his face. “Are you okay, Shion?” he asked, concern laced in his voice. 

Shion ignored how his heart skipped beats when Adriah had drawn out his name from his lips. His accent always slipped whenever he said his name; each syllable deliberately said. Like Adriah wished to capture his attention, and Shion found it quite difficult to brush him away, even at that moment. 

Adriah always said it like he meant one thing:

“ _Shion_.” 

There he was again. 

“Holy shit! It’s _cold!_ ” 

The libero spared a glance at him before turning his head to the rest of his teammates emerging from the depths of the gym. Only the main hall’s lights were lit and beyond it, pitch black. From a distance, he heard Meian scolding Atsumu, in a stern voice an old and exhausted man could muster; then, Hinata saying something about their setter being a bad influence, which he wasn’t _wrong_ about; Bokuto, exclaiming that he’s starving. The sounds of the night muddled together in Shion’s head that all he desired at that very moment was to be in the comforts of his bed. 

In silence. 

_Asleep_. 

That night was an _exhausting_ night. 

Adriah’s hand gingerly laid on Shion’s shoulder. Careful, as if the libero would break. Or collapse. Maybe both. 

“I’m just tired,” Shion finally replied with a deep exhale. 

“My apartment isn’t far away. Only a couple of blocks.” He turned to Adriah, an eyebrow raised in confusion. What was he talking about? 

Adriah sucked in a breath, gazed up at the starless sky for a moment; Shion waited. Underneath the yellow light of the streetlight, his companion’s figure cast longer shadows on the pavement, and Adriah Thomas appeared to be larger in volume than in height. He could envelop his arms around the world in an embrace, or grasp anything within arm’s reach.

There was no denying his height and presence on court. But beyond that and up close, there was something else — _he_ was something else. He _drew_ people toward him, or sometimes _he_ gravitated to _them_ , and thereafter, there was a shift in the world’s axis.

And before Shion had realized it, when formalities had been sealed with a cheeky grin and firm handshake, he was already there — 

“I can let you stay the night at my place,” said Adriah, now looking at Shion. A small smile curled on his lips; Shion looked the opposite direction, cheeks flaring. “Only if you want to, of course!” he hastily added. 

Shion adjusted the gym bag’s strap on his shoulder. “Why’re you offering?” 

An energetic voice pervaded the still night.

“Inu- _san!_ Great receive in our last set!” 

Both of Hinata’s arms were slung over Shion’s neck and Adriah’s shoulder. And he had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it. 

Shion tried not to collapse under Hinata’s weight. Their two centimeter difference hardly made up for the spiker’s muscle mass. He was _heavy_.

“Thanks, Hinata,” Shion groaned. “Your sets with Miya are better than last week.” 

Hinata beamed brightly.. “Oh, really?!” He turned to their teammates trailing behind. “Oi, Miya- _san!_ Meian- _san!_ Did you hear that?” 

“Careful there, Shouyou,” warned Meian. His fingers hooked on the collar of Hinata’s shirt and gently pulled him back. A great weight — quite literally — was lifted off Shion’s shoulders. “Shion doesn’t look too well. Must be worn out for the night.” 

“Your energy levels baffle me,” Sakusa commented. He lingered a few feet away from where the team huddled together, his mask pulled up to his nose obscuring half of his face. 

Atsumu rounded on Sakusa, who flinched at the close proximity. If you considered an arm’s distance _close_. “Stop bein’ a sourpuss, Omi _kun!_ Yer jus’ jealous ‘cause our set ain’t meshin’ together!”

“ _You_ stop being a pain in the ass, Miya,” snapped Sakusa. 

Meian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Beside him, Adriah offered him a sympathetic pat on the hand. 

“Will you please, _please_ give it a rest?” Meian moaned.

Atsumu looked affronted. “It’s Omi- _kun_ ’s fault in the first place!” 

“Miya, I’m warning you. _Shut up_.”

“Here we go,” Adriah muttered under his breath; Meian sighed again. 

A deep frown lined the corners of Shion’s lips when he turned to Adriah. “Can we go now?” He’s had enough bickering for the day because Atsumu Miya was a pesky child in an adult’s body. And, Meian was right: He was utterly _beat_.

Surprised, Adriah briefly gaped at him until it dawned on him that Shion had accepted his offer. “Uh, sure,” he replied. 

As though uncertain, Adriah spared one last look at the two wild animals — namely, Atsumu Miya and Kiyoomi Sakusa — ready to lunge at each other’s throats, then at Meian, who only offered a half-hearted smile at them. 

“I can take care of them. Don’t worry.” He didn’t sound very convincing; he did, however, sound fed up with their bullshit. A short fuse on its way to implosion. Shion had never understood the underlying sexual tension between the two. Was it because of spite or cowardice?

“You can lock them up together until they sort it out,” Shion suggested thoughtfully. 

“That’s not a good idea, Shion,” protested Adriah. Unlike him, Adriah’s overwhelming concern for his team, a terrible mix of ravenous monsters and ordinary mortals, awed Shion. 

He could _never_.

Shion, Shion, _Shion_. Adriah’s voice echoed in the blankness of his mind. 

He rather liked how his name escaped Adriah’s lips.

“Rest well!” shouted Meian, as the two went on their way, along the deserted and dimly lit streetwalk. Then followed the collective “ _Good night_ ”s and “ _See you tomorrow_ ”s, all a jumble of words than amicable farewells. Words were stuck in Shion’s throat, so he lifted a heavy arm and waved it two times while Adriah’s laughter drifted along. 

His laughter was full enough to make up for the lack of his Japanese vocabulary. There was warmth to them — to _him_. Like when Shion’s fingers curled around his hot, matcha tea in the too-cold mornings of Osaka, or when a stranger’s dog pressed its snout into his empty hand. _Familiarity_. 

It’s no wonder why Shion found himself drawn to him in the first few weeks after tryouts. Even if Adriah was first to approach him to ask for help in setting up the nets. 

“Are you okay, Shion?” 

It wasn’t _only_ the voice that withdrew him from thoughts: Fingers gently clasped on his bare wrist. Bandaged fingers. A calloused palm. Skin to skin. _Warmth_. 

Shion hoped that Adriah couldn’t feel his rapid pulse. 

“You don’t look so well,” Adriah pressed, his tone urgent and _concerned_. 

Could he _not_ sound so concerned? Whatever fatigue Shion felt, it was completely _normal_. Monster or not, exhaustion is part of everyday life — especially if you dealt with the likes of hormonal twenty-year-olds. 

So why was Adriah making such a big deal out of it? 

Shion’s free hand reached for the clasped hand and gently pried it off his wrist; he didn’t look up at Adriah. He didn’t _want_ to. He didn’t want to see the look of hurt betrayed on his face. It was enough to _feel_ it: Adriah’s intense gaze on him, warily watching.

Looking only straight ahead, Shion mumbled, “Really, Adriah, I’m just tired.” 

“Do you want me to carry you?” 

Shion gave him a pointed look, but the other kept his neutral expression. “Is that an actual question?” he shot back.

“Yes?” Adriah eyed Shion from the corner of his eye before pointing a finger to the street to their right: “Here.” 

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather walk and not burden you.” 

A pout graced Adriah’s lips. “I’m not weak.” 

“And I’m not helpless.” 

“I know that.” 

He said it with such ease and confidence that there was no room for questions. No room for Shion to ask himself whatever it was he felt towards Adriah. No room for ‘ _maybe_ ’s or ‘ _what if_ ’s. As Shion, mouth slightly agape, followed behind, Adriah’s blocks flooded into his mind: immovable and steady. The ball was either going through or rebound; Adriah hardly wavered in his blocks. 

So did he, in real life. 

_What could he possibly know about me?_

While waiting for the doors to open, Adriah called out a name — _his_ name: 

“Shion, are you coming with?” 

Fluttering his eyelids open, Shion only saw Adriah Thomas. He was there, flesh and bone. Tangible. Within reach. Along Shion’s personal axis. 

The elevator’s doors were ajar, but neither of them entered, and the night was theirs to have, with no soul to be on sight. Shion’s eyes shifted from the metal doors sliding shut to Adriah’s favored 201 centimeter height; he’d need to duck to avoid a lump on his crown. 

“You’re too tall for the elevator,” remaked Shion as he made his way beside Adriah. 

The doors slid open once again. 

Adriah watched the libero shuffle into the cramped space and lean against its metallic wall, adorned with a spa promotional poster. Shion pressed the button on the side and raised a brow at him. 

“Aren’t _you_ coming with?” Shion asked him, impatient.

“Should I go take the stairs because of my height?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me.” 

Adriah chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, I am.” 

Cautiously, Adriah lowered his head at an angle that only his hair grazed the frame of the elevator. The doors slid shut. Adriah extended an arm just above Shion’s head, pressed the button to the 7th floor, and fondly ruffled Shion’s pale hair. 

He didn’t protest. 

Instead, Shion closed his eyes and allowed the workings of the elevator to defy gravity as it steadily rose up, up, up. It was as close to the sky he could get to. He was always rooted on the ground, knees and elbows bruised just to dig the ball and keep the game in momentum. He was _tired_. 

And he let Adriah’s fingers weave through his locks.

This was as close he could be to Adriah — less than an arm’s distance but not a mere inch or two. Close, but not _too_ close. 

A safe distance.

“Hey, Adriah.” 

“Yes, Shion?” 

The elevator slowed to a stop, and its doors slid open. Shion’s eyes were still closed, but he could feel Adriah’s hand drop to his wrist and fingertips graze the bare skin beneath his jacket sleeve. A gesture he was fond of, now that Shion realized it. 

Subtle. _Tender_. A balance of Adriah’s nature.

Shion faced Adriah, head tipped back to meet him in the eye. Even when his face was shadowed by the sickly, yellow light of the elevator, there never was a threatening edge to it. _To him_. 

A lump formed in Shion’s throat, one that was difficult to swallow. He wanted to ask; he _needed_ to know. But he couldn’t. 

Not _yet_ , anyway.

Rather, he asked this: “Why did you invite me over?” 

Adriah opened his lips and paused before replying quietly, “Because I want to take care of you.”

His grip on Shion’s wrist became an anchor for Shion’s buckling knees. The latter didn’t know if it was because of the grueling training, or because of Adriah himself. Seven floors felt higher from the ground floor and cramped in an elevator with a six-foot-seven professional volleyball player was dizzying.

“ _Shion_ ,” Adriah breathed.

 _He_ was dizzying. 

But Shion took a step. One step to close the distance between them. One step for their axises to meet at one point. One step because Shion always found himself drawn closer and _closer_ to Adriah. 

Shion’s forehead was now pressed on the cotton fabric of Adriah’s shirt. An arm circled around his sagging shoulders. Their chests rose and fell evenly. 

Adriah’s shoulder would’ve been more convenient — _romantic_ , even. Then again, the twenty-or-so centimeter height difference inconvenienced him. It didn’t matter; Adriah’s warmth made up for it. 

They stood there, even as the elevator’s doors finally slid shut, and time for sleep ticked away for every passing breath between them. 

And Shion could stay there until the night bled into the morning. 


End file.
